Chapter 2 – Dance sister!

The girl was beautiful.

Lying there, eyes closed, the nurse looked down at her with something somewhere between envy and pity. Sure she was perfect. Blond, short hair gave way to skin of porcelain, unblemished, delicate, fresh. She remembered reading a poem written by Richie Von Vinkle about Gracie’s cheekbones a few years back. Some bullcrap about death after disco. Oh, but he was a dullard and a nincompoop.

The girl before her, though, was a Daughter. A chosen one. Built. Grown. Constructed. Born of thought, not of love, or at the very least some desperate fumbling in the dark. Yet her fate was no different from the others this purple madman had picked. And now the untouchable weren’t quite so out of reach.

As for His Cryness Richie Von Vinkle, good thing he was off around the galaxies. A channel had been dedicated to him long ago. Unfortunately, everyone else in MQuadC (The Magnum Clinic, Crematorium, Cemetary and Casino) loved the arsebucket and wherever she went in the building, she couldn’t escape the 24-hour stream to his life. Even now, the screen on the far wall was showing him and GShoe rutting away. There had been a lot of that recently. Like she needed a reminder that she hadn’t rutted anything but her bed post for quite some time.

She looked down again at the Daughter before her. This thing would never age, never fade, never die. Curse her and her kind. We struggle while they dabble. Pah.

Her own life had been as per Stephenie Frey’s want. Every child born to this world had their path laid out for them and she hadn’t been one to deviate. Stephenie Frey knew what each of them was capable of, knew when they would die, knew what they could become. There were photos of the nurse with the Daughter who visited the hospital the day she was born, an envelope in her hand, her life-to-be composite in a few hastily written lines. She still had that envelope, reached for it some nights when she was lonely, thought to burn it, never did.

Occasionally there was one who would stray. Some would be allowed, because apparently Stephenie Frey knew they would all along. Others would be cut out from the fabric of life, their short histories turned to dust, the very fact of their being erased. There were rumours Stephenie had let a few pass through, for entertainment. The nurse guessed whoever was responsible for these kidnappings was one of these, but surely Stephenie Frey wouldn’t stand for an attack upon one of her precious daughters.

Sighing, the nurse looked around the room. Strange that she had spent so many of her days in rooms so similar to this one, with it’s bright red walls,  high ceiling and 200 bulb chandelier. One wall was entirely taken up by a forest scene mural, some cute looking animals playing by water, the sky green.  Like all hospital rooms in the building, a card table was set up at one end ready to seat the evening’s punters. A croupierbot snoozed in the corner.

Her own Stephenie was lying flat on the floor, directly beneath the chandelier. She often did that. Not much of a talker, their pairing suited them both fine.

Otherwise the room was bare. Except for the bed on which Gracie lay. There were no machines – what would be the point of hooking up a Daughter to one? All this time and not one had ever had the need to visit a hospital. The nurse supposed there might be special clinics somewhere. Afterall, these things were organic. Then again, perhaps not.

Eleven attacks in the last five weeks. Stephenie Frey didn’t seem to care or her attention was elsewhere. Either way, a girl had been found every other day, none harmed, some still unconscious, none able to speak sense even when they did wake.

The other 10 victims had similarly been brought to MQuadC. Unfortunately for the nurse, she had been chosen to tend to all of them. At least with the others she could hope to offer some relief, not because that was her calling, just because it gave her something to do. All she could do with Gracie was stare at her until she woke. She thought about the flask in her pocket and wondered how long it had been since her last sip. That she couldn’t remember was probably not a good sign. Reaching down to her pocket, she smiled. At least she’ll be talking gibberish like the rest. To see a Daughter so reduced would be something.

“Hello.”

The nurse jumped out of her seat. Next to her, Gracie was sitting up on her bed, lazily scratching her right ankle.

“But..But.. You..”

“Yes…”

“H..how.. are y..you….?”

“Oh, fine thanks! Aren’t you a doll for asking?” Gracie smiled. “Would you be a dear and get in touch with Detective One for me? Tell him I’m awake and I need to speak to him. Oh, and that my Stephenie is locked in a ladies cubicle at Firebird Arena, second floor I think. I’m pretty sure she’ll still be unconscious but if someone could go get her, that’d be just dandy.”

“Uh..Sure.” What else could she say? If a Daughter asked you for something, you delivered. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Yes. A cat. Persian. Thanks.”

“A cat?”

Gracie raised her left eyebrow. There was something in that simple expression that chilled the nurse to her core.

“Uh, yes. Of course. Straight away.” She walked quickly to the televid on the side of the bed, dialled the front desk and gave instructions as instructed.

As she turned back Gracie was leaning over the bottom of the bed, looking at the Stephenie on the floor.

“Pretty chandelier.”

The Stephenie didn’t shift her gaze, just lifted up her right hand to show Gracie her middle finger.

“Ha!” Gracie laughed. “I like her. Is she yours?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. She’s never done that before.” The Nurse was shocked at her Stephenie’s behaviour. This was most unlike her.  True she would regularly just knock past people on the street or refuse to speak, but this directed rudeness was entirely new. The nurse thought she felt something like pride, and coughed.

“I’m sure that’s not true Nurse…?”

“Franki.”

“What a delightful name! Well, Nurse Franki. What say you we get some music up in this motherfucker huh? I must have been lying here a while and I’m getting the urge to shake ma bootaaaay!” She winked.

“I..I’m not sure you should really do that…”

But before she could finish her sentence, Gracie had hopped off the bed, run across to the other side of the room and was poking the croupierbot with her finger. “Hey! You!!”

The bot shook itself awake. “Tonight’s game is strip poker, starting blinds socks/trousers.”

“Oooh. I’ll take some of that action!” Gracie gave him a big, perfect smile. “But the casino won’t open for another couple of hours right? How about you play me some Country Metal in the meantime little buddy?”

The bot reached up and sprayed blush onto its cheeks. “Of course pretty lady. How about some Horsedung?”

“Excellent” Gracie beamed, reached down and planted at kiss atop the bot’s head just as the opening riff to A Slow Death on the Farm kicked in.

“Franki!! Won’t you dance with me sister?”

Maybe the girl had lost her mind.

“I do not dance. And I really don’t think you should either.”

“I hate to have to say this Nurse Franki, because I think I like you,” Gracie wasn’t smiling now, “but the truth is that I’m not too fond of folk saying no to me. So, either you dance, or I make you.”

There was the maniac then. All of the Daughters were the same – wrong. She stood her ground though, this bitch had another thing coming if she thought she could come into her Hosino and tell her what to do.

Downstairs, Strong had just walked into the lobby. Immediately, he was set on by a mobile roulette machine, offering him outrageous odds and Double-D lapsitter for the duration of his stay. Strong knocked the thing back with a kick.

“Fuck off. I’m here for the hospital, not your cocking casino.”

He knew Gracie was on the third floor so headed over to the elevator, in which he found a kid, no more than 14, crying, staring at the one millidollar in his hand.

“What’s the matter kid? Didn’t nobody tell you what happens in a casino?”

The boy didn’t even look up. Too far gone in his obsession. Kids these days were smart and ruthless. Why make ‘em wait to let the world taste their poison? No doubt he had initially been funded by the Corporation, and now his ass was owned. At least they’d feed him, whatever else they might do the little bastard.

Exiting the elevator on the third floor, Strong was once again attacked by casino staff. He only punched one in the nose, figuring this was a hospital after all, they’d take care of the fucker. He was more concerned about the fact that there seemed to be chaotic music coming from the direction of Gracie’s room, and not the operatic hiphop he found so relaxing either.

“What in the hell…?”

The scene he entered into wasn’t quite what he was expecting. Gracie was on her bed at least. But she was standing, carrying a nurse like a sack over her shoulder, swinging the woman backwards and forwards, singing the lyrics to whatever song was playing. Something about blood and jelly. The nurse was struggling, to her credit, but not getting very far in the seemingly frail daughter’s arms.

“Gracie!” Strong tried to shout above the music. “Gracie!”

He took his stress ball out of his pocket, flicked the miniswitch to turn it from soft to hard and aimed it directly for the head of the croupier bot in the corner. The aim was perfect. The music stopped immediately.

“Ouch!”

“Fuck off!” Strong said, not even glancing at the bot. “And if you turn that shit back on, it’ll be my fist you’ll make friends with next.”

At this, Gracie had dropped the nurse onto her bed, bounded off and was even now running towards Strong with a smile on her face, her breasts jiggling just so. Strong knew this image too would feed his bath routine later. And just as hope erupted that her intention was indeed to jump into his arms and plant her lips on his, she stopped suddenly.

“It was Chin.”